


Merit Badges

by myadamantiumheart



Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myadamantiumheart/pseuds/myadamantiumheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark never thought he'd have a thing for boy scouts- but then he met Steve Rogers. (Steve-is-a-boy-scout-troop-leader-AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merit Badges

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr.

 

 **So yes, it’s true** , Tony never expected to go for a man in olive-green almost-short-enough-to-be-euro shorts, a khaki button up with a bright blue ascot tucked into said shorts, knee high moss green socks, and hiking boots. Mainly because that was a boy scout uniform, and Tony was very aware of the age of consent. This Boy Scout, however, was ridiculously well muscled, platinum blond, devastatingly attractive in the sweetest apple pie way, and 27 years old.

And, being so knowledgeable about consent ages, Tony was very,  _very_  aware that 27 was firmly over said consent age in every state of the union.

Which he was very happy about.

 _Very_  happy about.

Twenty-seven was definitely an appropriate age for all manner of things that Tony wanted to be doing with the man.

Like grabbing his toned ass through those ridiculous short shorts or fucking him against the wall with the stupid knee socks on or possibly gagging him with the bright blue ascot and making him cry from sheer arousal.

The things Tony wanted to be doing with the man were also things he probably shouldn’t be thinking of right now because it would be a horribly inappropriate thing for him to have to stand up and talk to the assembled ten year olds with a very obvious boner.

Afterwards, though- after he’d stood up and given his talk to the wide-eyed denizens of the future, exclaiming on the excitement of robotics and designing things, and how great it is to see something you’ve built come  _alive_ , Tony doesn’t hold back. He sidles up to the gorgeous troop leader with a cup of lemonade in his hand and a cookie in the other and a lascivious smirk on his face, brushing the man’s broad shoulder in the most seductive way he can manage.

“Tony Stark,” he fairly purrs, dropping nodding up at him (fuck, he’s tall). The gold hair doesn’t budge from its perfect black and white movie side-part, a wide smile breaking across the man’s smooth face as he turns to look (down) at Tony.

“Mr. Stark! Hello, hi, I’m Steve Rogers, I’m the troop leader here,” He beams, reaching to shake Tony’s hand before realizing that both of them are occupied. To his credit, Steve doesn’t even blink when Tony quickly drops the cookie in the lemonade in order to shake his hand firmly, calloused fingertips dragging slowly across a strong wrist.

“Call me Tony,” he replies, looking Steve up and down slowly and appreciating how tight those euro shorts are across the troop leader’s muscular thighs. The taller man is blushing already, drawing his hand back and coughing lightly. “It’s nice that you volunteer your time to lead these kids, y’know. I don’t think I have the patience for that kind of thing.”

And, to Tony’s immense satisfaction, that just opens the shy boy right up.

“Oh  _gosh_ , Mr. S- Tony, you know, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I mean, these kids are just so  _bright_. It’s such a pleasure to get to work with them and they’re really just the sweetest kids, they’re so dedicated.” Steve half-laughs, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning. “Half the time I feel like they’re teaching me more about people than I could ever teach them. They’re quite patient with how much of an old man I can be sometimes.” 

“You can’t be that old,“ Tony demurs, careful not to add that he already  _knew_ because while Steve had been doing his opening speech he’d done a quick background check.

That would  _probably_  come off as a bit creepy.

“Twenty-seven,” Steve grins again, and it’s like Tony’s being blindsided by an apple pie singing the national anthem. This kid’s the kind of boy-next-door he’s only ever seen in patriotic porn videos.

Tony’s feeling pretty lucky right about now.

“So… Old enough to get coffee with me on Friday?” Steve laughs, this half-shocked laugh that makes Tony shudder in his stomach, wanting it up against his neck.

“I- really? You want to get coffee with  _me_?”

“Sure I do, Steve. Hell, you’re gorgeous. And besides that, you’re obviously too nice for your own good if you’re doing this gig. So, whaddya say? Frappuccinos and scones this Friday at one? If you’re not doing anything, that is.”

“I, well, I’m free. That’s my lunch break from the art store. I, I suppose I could meet you-” Tony grins and claps him on the back, nudging him with his hip and not missing the way the flush rises higher in Steve’s cheeks. Yep, his gaydar was accurate. Definitely interested.

“See you then, Steve.” He throws over his shoulder, tossing the cookie-soaked lemonade in the trash as he sashays away, feeling particularly proud of the way Steve’s eyes track his ass before realizing it.

—-

This was the first time that Tony met Steven G. Rogers, twenty-seven year old Boy Scout troop leader and all around good guy.

 _All_ -around.

Good at leading ten year olds in patriotic chants, good at running day camps, good at taking kids on hikes, good at resolving squabbles, good at tying knots, good at making food.

(Good at sucking cock.)

He’d anticipated a few dates, some coffees, some flirting, some going back to his apartment and having rough, passionate sex on the floor while Steve explored his obviously repressed wild side. Tony had not, however, anticipated this: becoming an integral facet of Boy Scout troop 342. He hadn’t expected that one look at a bright-eyed pair of kids with hope written all over their faces would tie him to the troop- but he couldn’t say he minded it all that much. Of course he refused to wear the uniform, showing up to meetings and hikes and the like in designer jeans that showed off his ass and band tee shirts that had seen better days. And yes, he pretended that he didn’t want to be there, making Roomba vacuums into what he gleefully termed as “Doombas” with the kids and engineering better balsa wood racers so that their troop could beat Charles Xavier’s prep school troop, troop 299.

But the truth was- Tony actually, genuinely enjoyed it.

He’d never thought he’d want to go on a hike or set a fire for hot dogs on sticks, or sleep in a pup tent with a gorgeous blond who was actually  _sleeping_  (despite Tony’s best efforts to coax him into a little tent-sex).

Now, however, he had Billy and Teddy, two adorable ten-year-olds who were absolutely inseparable and demanded he bring Dummy whenever possible. He taught Peter and Johnny soldering for their fifth grade science fair. He’d given Eli and Tommy lessons in coding.

Tony Stark was forced to admit that perhaps Steven Grant Rogers had domesticated him a little bit.

Which was fine by him, actually, because being domesticated meant coming home to his penthouse to find Steve in just bright-red boxers and a “kiss the cook” apron, making pancakes in the kitchen and singing Glen Miller songs. A perfect opportunity to slide right up behind him and grope his ass, nipping his shoulder playfully and wrapping arms around a tempting, trim waist.

“Hello,  _darling_ ,” he purred, fingers slipping down the front of Steve’s boxers, stifling a laugh when the other man jumped, his abdomen twitching at the gentle touches.

“Hello,” Steve replied, amused, as he flipped the pancakes off the pan and onto the plate, turning in Tony’s hold (which, lucky for Tony, landed his fingers firmly over Steve’s toned ass). “How was work,  _sweetheart_?”

“Awful. It would have been better if you’d agreed to come and suck me off under the desk while I teleconferenced with the Tokyo branch, but whatever…”

“You know I can’t do that. I have a reputation to uphold.” Steve grinned, setting the spatula down and kissing his cheek. “Boy Scout leaders are expected to have clean records, Tony. Breaking the rules for indecent activities isn’t a very upright thing to do.”

“I think you’d find my dick would be upright enough for it to be within regulation, Steve,” he mumbled, pulling him closer and slipping fingers down far enough to brush across the other man’s entrance. Steve gasped softly, bucking against him and laughing.

“I don’t think upright dicks are the same as upright morals, babe,” he murmured, hands starting in on Tony’s shirt buttons and belt at the same time.  _Mmm, yeah, dexterous fingers_ , Tony smirked. Dating an artist had its perks.  He grabbed the lube from the silverware drawer (“Tony, I told you to take the lube stashes out of the kitchen!”) and slicked his fingers up, shoving Steve back against and open stretch of counter and stepping between his legs to spread them, two fingers slipping in without pause. The taller man arched, biting down on a groan and bucking back against his fingers as he pressed deeper.

“Fucking hell, Tony,” Steve hissed, hands clutching tightly at Tony’s hips.  Tony grinned, biting red marks across Steve’s shoulders and thrusting his fingers, scissoring them mercilessly and soaking up his shocky whimpers. His other hand slid Steve’s boxers all the way off, the other man kicking them behind the island while Tony pushed a third finger in, his keening moan caught up in Tony’s mouth. He kissed Steve sloppy, sucking on his tongue while he sped up the pace and fucked him on his fingers until the blond was rocking back on them helplessly, cock dripping against his stomach and breath short.

“C’mere,” he breathed, grabbing the lube again and slicking himself up, one hand on Steve’s hip turning him around and letting him find a good hand-hold on the counter edge before fucking into him hard enough to rock him up on his toes.

It rather delights Tony when his boy scout swears up a blue storm, panting and moaning and keening as he fucks him hard over the counter, hips squirming back and head bent forward, a deep flush up his neck. Leaning forward, his chin brushing Steve’s shoulder blade and his hand wrapping around Steve’s (perfect lovely fabulous wonderful _giant_ ) cock, he thrusts even harder, soaking up the surprised wail he gets.

“Gonna come for me, beautiful?” Tony rasps out, thumb rubbing the slick head of Steve’s cock as he grinds hard against the other man’s prostate, drawing shivers and squirms and a delightful wriggling hip thrust out of him. Steve has to pant for a little, but he eventually answers (somewhat coherently, which just means that Tony should buck a little harder against his sweet spot).

“Y-yeah, yes, yep, gonna- gonna come, fuck, please- Tony-“

Ah, sweet music to his ears.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he purrs, fucking up harder and then just rubbing mercilessly against the slit, catching Steve’s whimpers and broken wail with his fingers and saving the pretty picture of Steve losing control for later. Steve spasms, head falling forward to rest on the counter and abs tightening as he comes, slick down Tony’s fist, hips erratic and enough to set Tony on  _fire_.

When he comes back to himself, hands still all over Steve, admiring the beard burn he’s left on the other man’s shoulder blades, Tony makes himself a mental reminder to thank Pepper for forcing him to go to the boy scout seminar all those months ago. 


End file.
